


Breaking the News

by gypsymuse



Category: Bones
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 15:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsymuse/pseuds/gypsymuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brennan's life is about to change dramatically. How will she tell the people closest to her-and how will they react? Tag for 6X23; contains spoilers. Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Breaking the News (1/?)**

**Breaking the News (1/?)**

Tag for 6X23. Brennan has some big news. How will it be received?

* * *

She told Booth first, of course, because that was the hardest thing, and because it seemed right that the father be the first to know.

( _Father_. She was accustomed to thinking of Booth as a father, but not in this particular context, not for a very long time now.)

Over the time between her discovery and its revelation, Brennan mentally rehearsed a number of scenarios of telling Booth and his possible reaction. As she prided herself on being both thorough and practical, she was careful to consider both positive and negative outcomes. The imagination that had helped lead her thrillers to the bestseller list now lead her thoughts down a number of possible roads, ending sometimes in an old-Hollywood embrace and other times in facing her partner's rejection. She considered appropriate settings for the reveal: over dinner at a quiet, upscale restaurant, at their usual table at the diner, seated on that bench next to the coffee cart down by the Reflecting Pool. She pondered the best way to convey the news: taking his hand in hers and looking deep into his eyes, ducking her head and murmuring it with a secret smile, pointedly refusing her usual beer or glass of wine and waiting for him to make the deductive leap. For a few short days, while she also awaited the birth of Angela's child, she found that she could think of little else.

In the end, though, she did none of these things.

Being present for the arrival of Michael Staccato Vincent Hodgins had moved her and shaken her more profoundly than she could have anticipated, and so it was that in the end, she blurted out her secret on the sidewalk in front of Booth's apartment, on the way back to the place where that secret was conceived on the morning after the terrible night when her house of reason was finally, irrevocably violated. The heartbeat between her words and his reaction felt like a metaphorical eternity.

And then he smiled at her, and the constriction in her throat eased, and the ache in her chest was replaced by spreading warmth, and then she felt herself smiling, too.

* * *

"A baby. We're gonna have a baby, Bones!"

"Yes, that's what I just told you," she replied serenely, looping her arm through his and bumping their shoulders together companionably. "I had wanted to tell you in more attractive surroundings than on a street corner, but-after leaving the hospital, I found that I couldn't wait for a better time. Are you disappointed?"

He stopped, swinging her around to face him. "Disappointed? Bones, I'm a lot of things right now, but 'disappointed' definitely isn't one of them. 'Ecstatic,' 'thrilled,' 'petrified'-yeah, but not 'disappointed.'" He searched her face, scrutinizing her wide anxious eyes and the way her earlier smile had faded. " _You're_ OK with this, right? I know neither one of us was planning on something like this, at least not right away, but, you're OK, right?"

"Yes," she assured him, impulsively grasping his hands. "Yes, I-I want this. I find that I am pleased, although it was not my intention for this to happen; I've always prided myself on being very conscientious about contraception-"

"Maybe my swimmers were just too strong for your birth-control mojo," he taunted, waggling his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes with an exaggerated frown.

"I wasn't expecting this, but I find that I don't regret it."

"Yeah, but are you _happy_ about it? You're gonna be a mom, Bones; that's a huge, huge thing. And you and me, you know, this is gonna change things forever. I mean, a baby, you know, a kid, that's something that will always bind us, a connection we'll always share no matter what. That's-that's a big deal. Are you sure you're OK with that?"

Brennan took a half-step back and looked, really _looked_ , at her partner. Strong, cocky, self-assured Seeley Booth at that moment looked none of those things that she knew him to be; his shoulders were hunched, his eyes guarded, his very stance tense and wary, as if poised for flight-or for absorbing a blow. She realized that he was waiting for, possibly even expecting, her rejection, and that realization hurt her deeply and made her launch herself into him, embracing him fiercely, desperate to reassure him.

"Booth, I'm OK with it. I want this-I want you, I want _us_. I'm-I'm happy," she admitted, with a wondering laugh. "I'm happy, Booth! I'm excited, and terrified, and happy. We're having a baby," she finished, voice and eyes soft.

He smoothed her hair, kissed the top of her head, then turned her and steered her toward his apartment. "A baby," he repeated, wrapped in the secret knowledge that was, for now, theirs alone.

* * *

One down. Next up, a visit with Angela.


	2. Telling Angela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This story will be focused primarily on conversations, so it will be dialogue-heavy and exposition-light. At this point I am planning on updating weekly, most likely on Fridays, and as it stands now it looks like there will be nine chapters.
> 
> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, but I couldn't futz with it forever.

Breaking the News  
Chapter 2: Telling Angela

 

"Ange, I - I have some news. I've known for a while, but I wanted to wait until after Michael was born to tell you -"

"Sweetie, what is it? Oh, my god, no. Bren, please don't tell me you're about to run off to another godforsaken horrible place where they don't even have running water or phone service. Is it Booth? Did something happen?"

"No! I mean, well, yes, it does have to do with Booth, but -" Frustrated, Brennan huffed out a breath and started over. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good, because I need you here. And Michael needs his Aunt Temperance." Mollified, Angela returned her focus to her infant son, dancing his floppy-eared stuffed bunny just out of reach of his tiny grasping fists. Thus diverted, she failed to notice Brennan's mounting agitation, which was clearly evident in her tense posture and the way she twisted her hands together.

"Yes, and I'm going to need you." At this uncharacteristic statement, Angela snapped to attention, clearly surprised at the admission. Gently placing the baby back in his bassinet, she approached her friend, resting a hand on Brennan's arm.

"What's going on? You're starting to worry me here. Are you OK? Is Booth?"

Touched by the other woman's concern, Brennan hastened to explain. "Yes, yes, we're both fine, I promise. It's - oh, Ange, I'm pregnant."

The most amazing array of emotions flickered across Angela's lovely, expressive face, beginning in stunned and ending in ecstatic. Brennan, who'd been bracing herself for an ear-splitting shriek, was relieved when her friend merely emitted a soft "Oh, Bren!" and enveloped her in a crushing hug.

"I would've told you sooner, but it didn't seem like the right time until now. Are you mad that I kept it from you?"

"Mad? Are you kidding? Bren, I'm thrilled for you! This is so amazing! How did Booth react? Was he over the moon?"

"He is very excited, yes. I was worried, at first, because Booth is at heart very sentimental about traditional cultural expectations, and I think it has always bothered him that Parker was born outside of marriage. I was afraid that he'd think that I might - well, things have been tense between him and Rebecca in the past, and I didn't want him to think that I would ever keep him away from this child or deny him the right to spend time with it -"

Angela took her friend by the shoulders and shook her gently, waiting until Brennan fell silent and looked up at her. "Sweetie, you're babbling. Of course you'd never do anything like that. Booth would never think that of you. Look, what you two have has never been traditional by any stretch of the imagination, but that's what makes it so amazing. No matter what happens, you two are going to be incredible parents, and this baby is going to be the luckiest, smartest, and most gorgeous baby ever." She considered this for a moment, then grinned wickedly, drawing an answering grin from Brennan. "OK, second luckiest, smartest and most gorgeous."

"I have to agree, both of our children will be exceptionally fortunate."

"Have you and Booth talked at all about what happens next? Do you think you'll move in together?"

"No, it hasn't come up yet, and to be honest, I'm not really looking forward to that conversation. Everything's been accelerated by this pregnancy; I'm not sure how much either one of us is ready to deal with yet."

"Well, you're together practically all the time now anyway, so if and when you do decide to shack up it shouldn't be too hard an adjustment." Glancing up, she saw that Brennan was making her panic face - wide-eyed, pale and deceptively blank - and quickly deduced the reason why. "Are you afraid he's going to want to get married?"

"I - I don't know. And if he asks, I honestly don't know what I'll say. I don't necessarily still have the same objections to the institution of marriage that I had when I was younger, but I do still feel that one should have a compelling reason for entering into such a social contract. I'm not certain that a pregnancy is a sufficient reason. It shouldn't be about obligation, or duty, you know?"

Pulling the troubled scientist into her arms again, Angela tried to find some words of reassurance. "Yeah, I do know exactly what you mean. It took Hodgins and me a long time to get to where we are now, but the thing that mattered most was that we wanted to be together, in whatever context; once we were both on the same page about that, everything else just fell into place. I think it'll be like that with you and Booth, too. There's more than one kind of family, and as long as you're together in this, the rest of the details will work themselves out."

Pulling back a little, Brennan swiped at her eyes and gave Angela a radiant smile. "You are such a good friend to me," she murmured. "Thank you."

"Takes one to know one. Now, since you're gonna be where I am now in a few months, you need to get in some practice. You can start by learning to change a diaper. Come on, mama..."


	3. Telling Max

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this chapter should have been posted a long time ago...

Max Keenan sat across from his daughter and her partner, watching them try mightily not to squirm under his scrutiny. The afternoon crowd at the diner bustled all around them, but the old con-man's focus was not to be diverted from what sat right in front of him.

"So what's going on with you two, huh? Why so serious? And why so fidgety? What, Booth, you gonna tell me you knocked up my daughter or something?"

"Yes," Temperance blurted. Booth dropped his forehead to the tabletop with a loud _plonk_. Max looked from the pallid face of one to the twitching shoulders of the other, and when he spoke again it was in the soft voice one might use on the mentally ill.

"Very funny, Tempe. But what's really going on?"

Returning upright, Booth steeled himself and met his not-quite-father-in-law's gaze squarely. "Max, she's serious. Bones is - "

"I'm pregnant, Dad. Booth's the father," she added helpfully, just to clarify. Her partner's head met the table again. Max opened his mouth, but nothing managed to escape for a moment. Abruptly he stood, using the edge of the table to lever himself upright, and gave Booth a poke to get his attention.

"I'd like to talk to you alone for a moment, son. Honey, excuse us just a little bit, will you?"

Alarmed, Brennan rose to delay them. "Dad! It's not like he got me drunk and took advantage of me! I assure you it was entirely consensual."

"I'm sure it was, Tempe. I just want to speak with the father-to-be of my grandchild for a moment. You know, man-to-man." He gave her a reassuring smile that looked a little too sharklike for Booth's comfort, and nodded approvingly when she subsided back into her chair. The worried look she shot her partner did not escape her father''s notice, and Max patted his baby girl's shoulder with one hand as he steered her baby daddy toward the exit with the other. He felt her eyes on him the whole way.

"Max," Booth began once they were past the doors, but Max waved them on a few more paces, until they were completely beyond eyeshot of the diner. Only then did he stop, and look to Booth expectantly.

"I knew there was something going on with you two. You were acting awfully strange on that last case."

"Listen, Max, I - "

"So when did you finally come to your senses? Or was it Tempe? I wondered which one of you would crack first." The older man looked positively gleeful. Booth started to relax, slightly.

"You mean you're not upset about this?"

"Why would I be upset? Look, Booth, I know you're a stand-up guy, the kind of guy I always wanted for my little girl. She's had a rough time of it for most of her life - and I know a lot of that's my fault, Booth, you don't have to look at me like that - but, well, Tempe's special. I know, I know, all fathers say that about their daughters, but it's true. She's different; I knew from the very beginning.

"She didn't speak until well past the time when normal kids start chattering; Ruthie and me were afraid there was something wrong with her, but every test came back normal, and when she finally did start talking it was in complete sentences, no baby-talk babble like a regular kid. She taught herself to read by the time she was three. Smart as a whip, but she was - not shy, exactly, but just not adept at dealing with other kids. She just didn't get social interactions. Other kids were cruel to her, and she never quite knew how to handle it. Hell, she still doesn't! But the things that made her a target were the things that were the best about her: her intelligence, and her curiosity, and her sweetness. I can only hope those things haven't been completely beaten out of her over the years. She keeps an awful lot to herself, and there's things I know she'll never share with me.

"I wanted, more than anything, to be able to protect her, especially once she was old enough for men to start noticing her - but as you know, that's not how it worked out."

"Yeah, she doesn't have the greatest track record when it comes to dating," Booth agreed.

"You don't either, from what I hear," said Max slyly. Booth glared.

"Where'd you hear that?"

"I get around. I know people. I'm not gonna lie to you, son; when I found out you'd come back from Afghanistan with some little blonde ball of fluff, I was disappointed. I expected better from you."

"Hey, Hannah was not - "

"Save it, kid, that's all water under the bridge now. But I could see how much it hurt Tempe, even though she refused to talk about it. Now, I don't know what went on between the two of you before she left for Machu Picchu or wherever the hell it was she ran off to - "

"Maluku," Booth corrected. "The Maluku Islands, and what went on was, I asked her to give us a chance and she shot me down."

"Huh. Well, I don't know how you asked her, but you must have done something stupid. Her, too, for that matter. You're two of a kind in more ways than you know.

"But never mind that. What I want to know is, do you love my daughter?"

"What? Max, I would kill for her. I would _die_ for her."

"I know that, and I know she'd do the same for you. But do you love her?"

Booth drew a deep breath, then looked Max square in the eye. "Yes. I never stopped."

"Have you told her?"

"Not in so many words."

"Then I suggest you do, but just be prepared to back it up. My baby girl's a scientist, you know; she needs proof."

Booth snorted, and Max clapped him fraternally on the shoulder. "You'll be there for her, right? You're in this for the long haul?"

"The rest of our lives, if she'll have me."

"She might surprise you. You've just gotta be patient, you know, open to the possibilities. You're a good man, Booth. I'm glad she's got someone like you to watch her back. Now come on, we should get back to the diner. If we're gone much longer Tempe will come after us."

"She's probably afraid you'll kill me and set me on fire."

"Hey, would I do that? Of course not, I'm a changed man. I've got a grandchild on the way!"

Booth did not find this declaration as reassuring as he might have, but he followed the other man anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brennan and Booth explain the situation to their psychologist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the long-overdue next chapter. This time: telling Sweets.

Breaking The News  
Chapter Four: Telling Sweets  
  
  
  
Lance Sweets dropped heavily into his chair, grasping its arms as though they might help anchor him to a suddenly shaky reality. " _Seriously_?" he asked, eyes huge.  
  
"Of course," replied Temperance Brennan, crossing one long leg over the other and leaning back into the couch cushions. "I am pregnant with Booth's child."  
  
"Come on, Sweets, don't act so surprised," the aforementioned Booth said, grinning. "I mean, jeez, isn't this what you wanted? You wrote a whole damn book about us!"  
  
"A whole damn _highly inaccurate_ book," Brennan corrected, "but a book about us, nonetheless. You should be happy, as this gives you new material to put in your updated, fact-checked second edition." She gave her partner a wink and the two of them lapsed into poorly-stifled laughter. Across from them, Sweets' face shifted from pale to red.  
  
"Now you're _laughing_? _Seriously_?"  
  
"Why does he keep asking that?" Brennan looked to Booth, nonplussed. "I already told him we were quite serious."  
  
"I think it's rhetorical," Booth answered.  
  
"Oh. Maybe it's too much for him to process. This is a very significant development in our partnership."  
  
Booth nudged her shoulder. "Maybe you broke him. I think you broke Sweets, Bones. You should've kind of eased him into it, instead of just blurting it out."  
  
"Dr. Sweets is a professional--albeit in a questionable profession--and an adult. I had no reason to believe him incapable of comprehending or accepting something as straightforward as the announcement of my pregnancy."  
  
"I am still right here in the room," Sweets reminded them faintly.  
  
"Our pregnancy," Booth corrected her, gazing at her still-flat belly with a sickeningly fawning expression. Brennan frowned.  
  
"No, my pregnancy. I am the one currently gestating. The end result will be our child, but the pregnancy is unequivocally mine alone. I have always detested hearing males say things like 'we're pregnant' when in fact it is only their female partner experiencing the bodily changes brought on by pregnancy. And now that I am beginning to experience those changes myself," she added, darkly, "I find that it makes me want to hit them."  
  
"No hitting, Bones," Booth chided. "You're gonna be a mom, you gotta learn to set a good example. Use your words."  
  
"I have a multitude of them," she assured him, grin turning feral. "Want to hear a few?"  
  
"Uh, guys?" Struggling for control, Sweets forced himself upright. "While this may all be very amusing to you, as your Bureau-assigned therapist I feel it necessary to remind you that this new development will have far-reaching ramifications upon not only your personal relationship, but your professional partnership as well."  
  
Booth's response was a succinct and dismissive "Duh!" Brennan took a more challenging approach.  
  
"How?" She demanded. "You know I won't work with anyone but Booth, so if you try to get either one of us reassigned, then the Bureau loses its forensic anthropologist and the expertise of the Jeffersonian staff."  
  
"She can make that happen, too," Booth assured Sweets. "I'm pretty sure the higher-ups wouldn't like that."  
  
"I may, at some point in the distant future, feel the need to limit or curtail my fieldwork activities for a short period of time, if necessary, but for the foreseeable future there is no reason why Booth and I cannot pursue our normal duties as we always have." Brennan uncrossed her legs, set both booted feet on the floor with an emphatic thump, and leaned in for the kill. "I am in superb physical condition, and both my professional and personal relationships with my partner are functioning at their strongest levels. It would seem to me imprudent at best to alter any of that."  
  
She leaned back, triumphant.  
  
"Imprudent," Booth echoed, nodding.  
  
"I wasn't gonna try to break you up," Sweets muttered, likely unaware of how young he sounded. It was endearing, in an annoying, Sweetsy way. "Look, guys, you gotta know--I'm on your side, I want to see you make it work, personally, professionally, all of it. Technically, as you both know, FBI regulations prohibit agents fraternizing with consultants, but we all know Dr. Brennan is a unique case--"  
  
"Yes, I am," she agreed serenely.  
  
"-- _and_ , as she is technically more an independent contractor for the Jeffersonian rather than a conventional employee, I suspect that there's a loophole somewhere that we can exploit to your advantage if necessary. Plus--" and here he leveled a glance at Booth, "--we all know Assistant Director Hacker has something of a soft spot for Dr. Brennan. So, at this time, I see no reason to recommend any changes other than to add a second session each week to assist you both in developing coping strategies for dealing with the new pressures on your relationships."  
  
Neither of the partners much liked the sound of another weekly session of shrinkery--their faces wore eerily similar expressions of displeasure--but they had the sense to know that they'd won the first battle, and to accept their win with grace. The occasional concession was necessary to preserve the peace.  
  
Clapping his hands together, Booth rose, effectively declaring the interview over. Sweets peeked at his watch and sighed in resignation. Brennan took Booth's offered hand and let him assist her to rise; and once she was standing at his side, she did not drop his hand.  
  
"All right then, Sweets, we gotta go. Murderers to catch and all that. Come on, Bones, you ready?"  
  
The smile she gave her partner made Sweets suddenly certain that his conclusions had been right all along. "I am now," she told Booth, not knowing that she'd just given their young psychologist friend the impetus to begin the revision of his book. The partners started toward the door, but he called them back before they could escape. Turning back to face him, they waited, as Sweets rose to show them out. His wide, warm eyes might possibly have been a little brighter than normal.  
  
"Congratulations, you guys," he said, all hints of professionalism buried beneath a brilliant smile. " _Seriously_."


	5. Telling Gordon Gordon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I enjoyed writing about one shrink so much, I had to write about the other. I hope you all enjoy it, too!

“Agent Booth! And the lovely Dr. Brennan. How delightful it is to see you both--it’s been far too long!” Chef Gordon Wyatt’s wide, worn face was alight with genuine pleasure at seeing his former patient and his partner. It had indeed been quite a while since he’d seen either of them. Rumor had it that they’d both been out of the country for a few months, and that there had been some sort of estrangement upon their return--not that he was a man to give much credence to idle gossip, of course, but one did hear things.

The delight he expressed to them now was no less than the truth. When he’d been informed earlier that evening that their names had appeared in his restaurant’s reservation system, it had come as a very pleasing surprise, for he thought of them both often. They were a remarkable pair. Agent Booth, for all his bluster, was a wounded soul with a noble heart; while his counterpart, for all her frosty arrogance, had a wounded heart coupled with a noble soul. Seeing them together again was reassuring, somehow, as if their complementary natures combined to create something greater than the sum of their individual parts.

But Chef Gordon Wyatt was a romantic, and something of a poet’s heart beat beneath his chef’s apron. He beamed fondly down upon the pair and studied them, not only with the warmth of a friend, but with the discerning eye of the psychiatrist he’d once been.

They sat across from each other at an intimate two-top table tucked discreetly out of the main flow of traffic--the sort of seating one might request when planning a romantic tete-a-tete. Both were dressed well, but informally, as befit a dinner date at a casual upscale establishment, Booth in charcoal grey slacks and a crisp maroon shirt open at the throat while Dr. Brennan wore a belted shirtdress in a shade of electric blue that enhanced the vivid hue of her eyes. Those eyes shifted their laser focus from her partner to him, and the brilliant smile she offered gave him a bit of an idea of the girl she must once have been.

“Dr. Wyatt, it’s so nice to see you again.” She gave his proffered hand a firm shake. Clasping hers warmly, he corrected her.

“Chef Wyatt, my dear; remember, I’ve taken in my shingle in favor of more agreeable work. I spend my days now nourishing bodies, rather than mending minds.”

“Is it a more rewarding task?” she asked, astute as always. He considered.

“Each one has a different reward; I cannot say conclusively which is greater, or for whom.” Patting her hand before releasing it, he turned his attention to the dark-eyed agent across the table. Booth grinned at him.

“Gordon Gordon! Good to see you!” He rose to shake the older man’s hand, clapping him familiarly on the back before resuming his seat. His high spirits seemed natural, not tense or forced, and Wyatt filed that bit of information away for further examination, an action so ingrained as to seem nearly instinctive. (Old habits, as he well knew, rarely died altogether.)

“Likewise, Agent Booth. The two of you are both looking exceptionally well.” They were, too; Booth was fairly vibrating with irrepressible good humor, and the only word for Dr. Brennan was radiant. And though they looked at and talked to him, even a far less observant man than Gordon Wyatt could’ve seen that the bulk of their attention was focused upon each other. So something had happened, then; he was fairly certain of it, but a bit of a fact-finding expedition surely wouldn’t be amiss. Taking a chair from an open nearby table, he pulled it close and seated himself between the two. “I can spare a few moments away from the kitchen,” he confided, “so we can take this time to catch up. Did I not hear that you were both away on separate business not so long ago?”

An unsubtle shot, but an effective one. It was fascinating to watch their faces change, as if identical dark clouds passed over them. Booth’s jaw clenched, a slight muscular twitch visible. Brennan’s small smile firmed into a tight line before her face went utterly blank. Booth was the first to speak.

“Yeah, yeah, I had a training project for the US military and Bones went on a dig in the Machapookoo Islands--”

“Maluku,” she said automatically. Booth waved a dismissive hand.

“Anyway, all water under the bridge now. We’re back: solvin’ murders, catchin’ bad guys, makin’ the world a safer place.”

“Of that I have no doubt. I’m sure your mission was classified, Agent Booth, so I will not press for details; but Dr. Brennan, perhaps you can share a bit of your findings. How was it, returning to your first love after all these years of crime-solving?”

He watched them very carefully. Booth looked down at the tabletop; the faint sound coming from that direction might have been his molars being ground to a fine powder. Brennan shot him an anxious look before turning a level gaze upon Wyatt. Her low, clear response gained both men’s full attention.

“My findings while on the island were incomplete. Lacking sufficient evidence, I was unable to draw a conclusion until I returned home.”

“And did you find what you sought?”

She dared a look at Booth again before stating, quietly, “I did.”

The tension shattered and fell away as Wyatt clapped his hands together, once. “Splendid! I will admit that I think of the two of you from time to time, and that it pleases me enormously to see that you’re getting on so well. Although I did wish to extend my belated condolences to you, Dr. Brennan. I heard of the incident at the Jeffersonian some weeks back, and I was very relieved to know that you were unharmed. Still, you must have been close to the unfortunate young man involved, were you not?”

“He was one of my students,” Brennan replied, not bothering to blink away the tears that rose in memory. “My favorite student.”

“I am very sorry for your loss. Perhaps you can take comfort in knowing that the young man was likely thrilled to have had the great honor of working with you.”

“He was thrilled,” Booth assured them both, though his warm gaze never left his partner’s face. “That kid worshiped the ground you walked on, Bones.” He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers where it lay tracing idle patterns on the cloth. She gave him a wan smile in return.

“Thanks, Booth.” And for a moment, Gordon Wyatt was content to leave them alone in their own little world. He broke the spell by touching a consoling hand to Brennan’s shoulder.

“I apologize for causing you even a moment’s sorrow on what was clearly meant to be a pleasurable outing. Is this a particular special occasion, or were you both simply feeling adventurous, desiring a new culinary experience?”

Booth, who much preferred a well-grilled steak with a side of mac and cheese to any “culinary experiences,” snorted. “You could say it’s special, but that’s Bones’ story to tell if she wants to. Me, I just thought it’d be nice to go out to dinner and catch up with an old friend.”

“I’m flattered. Have you had a chance to look over the menu, yet? I’d happily offer my recommendations if you--:

“I’m pregnant,” Brennan announced abruptly, “and Booth and I are now together.” After a beat, she added, “Booth is the father.”

No stranger to preposterous revelations, Wyatt responded with no overt display of surprise. “Then congratulations are in order. I am so very, very happy for you both--and for the little one to come, who could not ask for finer parents. I take it, then, Agent Booth, that the hope and patience I suggested so long ago at last paid off?”

“For awhile there I thought I’d lost both,” Booth stated baldly. “But yeah, they did.” Catching Brennan’s bewildered expression, he assured her, “It was a long time ago, Bones. I’m back now. It’s OK.”

“We’re back now,” she agreed, and Chef Gordon Wyatt beamed his delighted approval over them both.


	6. Telling Brennan's Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After seeing "The Shot in the Dark", I knew this had to be the next chapter.

For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom, Brennan remained patiently in the Sequoia’s passenger seat even after Booth turned the vehicle off, allowing him the pleasure of coming around to open her door and offer her a hand down. She took it, then let go to retrieve the fluffy bundle of hothouse flowers they’d picked up on the way. The colorful Gerbera daisies were a stark contrast to the leaden sky and sodden earth as the pair plodded their way from their roadside parking place to Brennan’s mother’s resting place.

It was Booth who had impressed upon her, years ago now, the importance of visiting with, and talking to, her deceased mother. As an anthropologist, of course, she understood such acts, and had you asked her she could have discoursed upon the subject at length -- and from a safe, scholarly distance. It would have been far harder to get her to admit to the value of such acts for her personally, though of course Booth knew, without asking.

Still, the old habits of distance and dismissal were difficult to leave behind entirely, and so for form’s sake Brennan announced “It’s not like she can hear us, Booth, but since I know these rituals are important to you, I’m willing to participate.”

“It’s a matter of respect,” he told her, taking her elbow when it seemed she might stumble on the uneven, muddy terrain. “If your mother were alive, I’d have wanted to speak to her just as I did to Max, to, you know, declare my intentions toward you and our child.”

The old-fashioned phrase, and the sentiment driving it, made her chuckle. (This in itself was indicative of a major internal shift, as in the not-so-distant past such a statement would’ve raised a storm on the subject of antiquated and paternalistic attitudes toward pregnancy.) “Do you want to speak to her alone, then?”

“I -- yeah, if you don’t mind. I won’t take long, and then you can talk to her. OK?”

“Yes.” Stopping a few rows back, Brennan paused beside a large pink granite marker. The temptation was strong to perch on the edge of it, but she refrained, knowing that to do so was to request a lecture from Booth on showing respect for the dead (although it was certain that she knew far more about funerary customs and taboos than he did, albeit for various cultures unrelated to their own). She watched as he approached her mother’s grave, pausing for a moment with head bowed as if in prayer then squatting in front of the stone. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but she knew the changing expressions on his face quite well: wonderment, joy, hope, and -- the one she’d had such difficulty believing in the truth of -- love. Her vision doubled for a moment before she blinked away the tears that seemed to surface so easily these days. Booth lingered a moment longer, then kissed the fingertips of his right hand and rested it atop the headstone briefly before he rose and returned to her side. His features were so soft in that moment, his eyes so full of warmth and love, that Brennan felt nearly overwhelmed by the enormity of her attachment to him. Because she had yet to develop the vocabulary to express even a fraction of her feeling, she opted for a simple question instead: “Did you tell her what you wanted her to know?”

“I told her that I love you, and I love our baby, and that I will lay down my life if necessary to protect you both.”

“Oh, Booth.” There were the tears again. He reached up and smoothed away one escapee with the pad of his thumb.

“Your turn. I’ll wait right here.”

“OK.” Clasping her bouquet, she picked her careful way between the stones, boots squelching in the soggy grass. When she reached her mother’s grave, Brennan stooped to place the flowers in the attached vase, pausing to arrange them just so. Then, taking a cue from Booth, she squatted before the headstone, eyes closing as she sought to gather her thoughts.

“Hi, mom,” she sighed at last. “It’s Temperance. I’ve got something important to tell you, and I really wish you were here to hear me say it.” She gave a small, choked laugh. “Mom, I’m pregnant.

“My partner -- my work partner, Booth -- he’s the father. I -- I wish you could meet him. I know you didn’t think much of my taste in boys when I was younger, but -- Booth isn’t like anyone I’ve ever been with. I think you’d like him. Dad likes him. He’s a good man, the best man I’ve ever known, and he’s a good father -- he has a son, and I know he’ll be a wonderful father to our child as well.”

Leaning forward, she traced her fingers over the deeply incised characters spelling out her mother’s name and dates of birth and death. This time she didn’t even try to stop her tears.

“Oh god, Mom, I wish you were here. There’s so many things I’d ask you. I don’t know how to do this! How to be a mother, how to be a -- a mate to a man like Booth. I’m so confused and I hate feeling this way. I’ve tried so hard to make rational decisions, to use my brain as you used to tell me -- but right now, I really wish you were here to tell me what to do with my heart, because I have no idea.” 

Wiping her streaming eyes, Brennan straightened, stroking the daisies’ soft petals a last time before standing. 

“I love him, Mom, and he loves me. And even though I’m scared to death, I’m thrilled about the baby. So is Booth. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I am determined to make this work. And I wanted to tell you, even though I know you can’t hear me. I still feel better for having told you.” Mimicking Booth’s gesture, she kissed her fingertips, resting her hand briefly on the cool marble. “I love you, Mom.”

She was back at her partner’s side in four long strides, his arm wrapping around her with easy familiarity. Steering her gently, Booth led them back across the cemetery to where the truck awaited. The sky above, while still a murky grey, was showing signs of brightening, and as they stepped from grass to gravel they could feel the earth firming beneath their feet. Booth unlocked the passenger door and opened it before going around and climbing in on the driver’s side.

“So,” he said, releasing the brake and putting them in motion, “did you tell her what you wanted her to know?” He winked as he repeated her earlier question back to her. Brennan nodded, resting her hand on his arm.

“I told her I loved you, and that I loved her too, and that I wished she could be here to see our family.”

“She can, Bones,” he assured her, dropping one hand from the wheel to reach out to her. “I promise you: she can.”


End file.
